


It's Over

by Fangirl_Deluxe14



Series: Kinktober 2018 [27]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Against a Wall, Hallucinations, John with a limp, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_Deluxe14/pseuds/Fangirl_Deluxe14
Summary: Sherlock is gone.  Dead.  What's going to happen to John now?





	It's Over

It was over.  He was gone - dead.  Pulseless, lifeless. Suicide.  The great mind that was Sherlock Holmes was gone.  There would never be another like him, nor had there been before him.

 

John’s feet pull him along without him controlling them, until he is standing in front of the door that suddenly feels so foreign. “221b” might have been his home for the last two years, but now it seems empty.  It seems… wrong. Violin play would never more fill these rooms, no more eyeballs in the microwave, no more thumbs in the fridge.

 

His limp is back.  John notices that as he climbs the stairs.  He sees that the door into the living room is open, and he can swear he closed it behind him when he left.  Shaking his head, he enters and heads over to his chair, slumping into it. His eyes slide shut without him realising, and when he opens them, Sherlock is sitting in his chair opposite him.

 

All John does is sigh.  He was aware this might happen.  These aren’t his first hallucinations, after all.  He shakes his head and gets back to his feet, heading for his room.  He hears the footsteps behind him and ignores them. He continues to ignore the presence in his room as he sits down, his head in his hands.

 

The bed dips beside him and John looks up to find Sherlock’s eyes seeking his.  “John...” Sherlock’s voice is shaky, just like it was on the roof. Like his note.  John doesn’t think he’ll ever get that voice out of his head.

 

“You’re not here.  You’re dead”, John says as he gets to his feet, taking his long unused cane with him as he goes back downstairs.  He passes the living room, unable to look at the empty chair. He breathes out a shaky sigh as he pushes open the bathroom door.   He opens the tap for cold water and cups his hands under it, lowering his head to splash the chilled water in his face.

 

As he looks at himself in the mirror, John realizes just how much he’s lost.  Not only his best friend, but his lover, his partner, his  _ everything _ .  Another shaky breath passes his lips as he turns off the water again, and John turns to face the hall.  Right opposite from the bathroom door is the door to Sherlock’s,  _ their _ , bedroom.  John has to support himself on the sink to stay on his feet as he remembers that this bedroom is his alone from now on.

 

Swallowing hard, John walks towards the room, steadying himself on his case.  The door opens to him on its own, and John furrows his brows as he enters. As soon as he is past the door, it slams shut and a man presses him against the wall.  John struggles as he looks up, and sees Sherlock’s worried eyes meet his own.

 

“John, stop.  I’m here. I’m right here.”  Before John can answer, soft lips cover his own dry ones, and he responds immediately, letting out a sob of relief.  He wraps his arms around Sherlock’s neck and clings to him, clutching onto his shoulders and anything he can get his hands on.  Sherlock, in return, cups John’s face and presses himself against him, holding him in place.

 

No words are exchanged for a long time.  John is too busy making sure this is actually Sherlock in front of him, and Sherlock makes sure John knows it’s him.  At one point, their kisses go from reassuring to hungry, and their movements go from hasty to slow and measured. Sherlock begins grinding against John, and John grinds back.  John’s fingers tangle in Sherlock’s hair as they move, and neither man lasts long until they come in their pants. Sherlock pulls away first and helps John onto the bed.

 

“I’m right here, John.”

 

“How?”  

 

“Does it matter?”  

 

“No.”


End file.
